Witness
by Lady Kaisa
Summary: "They had had a cat... perhaps it had perished, like his parents, at Godric's Hollow... or else fled when there was nobody left to feed it..."
1. Unisex

_This is just a little ficlet that's been bouncing about in my head for some time now. Honest and constructive criticism is appreciated, regardless of whether it is considered a flame._

**1. Unisex**

Imagine, if you will, that instead of a human being, which is something to be fervently hoped that you are, that you are a small, black, green-eyed cat. If you truly wish to be specific, imagine that you are half-Kneazle, with your Kneazle lineage on your father's side. Now, imagine all of the names – some of them plain – that your owner might give you. For example: Tom, Midnight, Lizzy, Inkling, and so many others. But no, this particular feline had a particularly – for want of a better word – _unique _name.  
>_<p>

_Late morning; December 25, 1979_

"Happy Christmas, Lily," James Potter said, plopping a small, bright red, neatly-wrapped box in front of his wife, who looked up with wary eyes. The gifts that James so often presented to her were… extravagant_,_ and she was not in the mood for things even remotely similar to last year's Valentine's Day present.

On that fateful day of romance and love, she'd received a particularly ugly gnome that showered her with tiny pink paper hearts, sang bad poetry (which she'd later learned that James had written himself), and attempted to make the day as "romantic" as possible. In short, she'd been completely unable to focus on any of her classes and she had lost a good deal of her notes for Transfiguration. Just thinking about what James considered a decent gift made her want to hide her face in her hands – as well as her smile so that he wouldn't feel even slightly encouraged.

James grinned, and for a moment Lily was reminded of the careless, boisterous schoolboy that she had once known and despised, before last year. Still, that had always been a part of him that she'd liked, that ridiculously confident smile. She blinked and, with a little jump, realized that he was actually still speaking.

"-ne overboard so I got you _this_," he said, pointing at the box with a gleeful expression on his face. The box shook slightly, as if it held some beastly animal within. She looked up with frightful eyes, but James' own eyes were filled with the usual cheer. She kept staring at them, allowing herself to be lost in his chocolate-colored eyes… _Hmm, chocolate sounds good right now… _

"Lily? Lily!" James exclaimed, waving his hand in front of the redhead's face. She blinked.

"What? Huh?"

James almost laughed. In all the time that he had known her, Lily Evans – Potter as of August – had never uttered those two particular words in that sequence.

"Open your present," he said slowly, leaning closer. Lily felt her face grow hot; with fumbling fingers she unwrapped the box, tossing the paper and ribbon carelessly on the thick blue carpet. James' eyes narrowed, analyzing her expression as she peeked into the box.

A small _mew _sounded throughout the room. Lily gasped, and lifted a tiny black cat out of the box. A green ribbon was wrapped gently around its neck. The little kitten's eyes - a piercing shade of green – opened, taking in Lily, the sofa, and everything around it. Lily cooed and scratched behind its ears. The kitten's eyes closed in pleasure.

"Is it a tom?" Lily asked, not pausing in her scratching. The kitten was purring now, its ears, bigger than those of most cats, twitching every now and then.

"I don't know," James said, reaching out to scratch the cat under its green bow. The black feline opened one eye and batted at James' hand in a seemingly playful gesture, claws extended. "Ouch!" exclaimed the man, jumping back with three shallow scratches on his left hand. The kitten's slightly tufted tail twitched and it closed its eyes again, still purring.

Lily paused. The tail was tufted… the ears were over-large…"James," she began.

"What?" her husband asked innocently. Too innocently.

"I thought you had to have a license to own Kneazles."

"That's right," replied James with a nod of his head.

"Why is there a Kneazle kitten on my lap?"

James looked offended. "Lily!" he exclaimed in mock anger. "I abide completely by the law. It's a _half-_Kneazle. It was one of Arabella's," he added quickly, as Lily gave him what could only be described as the Look™. The kitten mewled, nuzzling its head against her hand.

Lily obliged to the kitten's wish, once again began to scratch it under its emerald bow, mentally steeling herself for the rake of claws across her skin. Nothing happened; there was only more purring and soft kitten fur.

"I don't think he likes you," Lily informed her husband matter-of-factly.

James raised an eyebrow. "_He_?"

"It's a he. I just know it," retorted Lily, narrowing her eyes. James grinned.

"We'll see," said James, sitting beside her. "There's just one thing…" he trailed off, looking slightly nervous.

"What?"

"The cat already has a name," said James, his eyes focused on the ceiling as though something incredibly amazing dangled from it. "I've actually mentioned it before, last summer…"

Lily's eyes remained fixed on her husband's face, narrowed and wary. If one assumed that Sirius' storytelling skills were decent, a trio of Death Eaters had spotted James and Sirius as they'd been undergoing an intelligence mission. To put it shortly, a chase had ensued, Muggle policemen had tried to arrest both men (as they should have, helmetless as they were), and the Death Eaters had caught up with them, forcing them to use magic to make their escape.

Her husband – then her fiancé – could be so _dense. _Honestly, would it have been so hard to just leave Muggles out of this entire war? At least he'd tried not to scare the policemen out of their wits, as both he and Sirius had kept up a steady stream of supposed-to-be-amusing banter with the keepers of the law. Banter involving... names…. _No. Hell no._

"You didn't," she growled through clenched teeth. James finally looked at her, a smile on his face. To elaborate, it was not a 'happiness' smile – it was a 'please-don't-hurt-me' smile.

"It's no use; Arabella already called this one-"

"Don't say it," she said shortly, cutting him off. "You will _not_ call him Elvendork."

"He, he – who says it's a he?" demanded James, grinning.

"If it's a girl, then why are you calling _him_ –" she made sure to emphasize the word "-Elvendork?"

James grinned; he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "The thing is, Elvendork's unisex."

Lily swore.


	2. Bodyguard

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters within it, the universe in which Harry Potter takes place - none of it._

* * *

><p><strong><span>2. Bodyguard<span>**

_Early morning; September 17, 1980_

The thick curtains, a lovely deep blue, almost completely stopped the early morning sunlight from entering. The weak sunshine was successful, though, in slipping in through a tiny crack between the curtains. The sliver of light illuminated the room enough for even a human to see clearly. The light plainly showed that Harry Potter's room did not want for decoration, trinkets, or toys; it was obvious that his parents doted on him in every way… most of the time. Usually the doting and such occurred when they were not sleep-deprived and desperate.

The infant had only gone to sleep a couple of hours ago. His piercing cries had kept both his tired mother and his grumpy father awake against their will. They had not felt very loving nor paticularly kind then; Lily had considered using her wand to silence her child several times. The one time she even suggested it, James had given her a sleepy (but stern) look that made her silence herself (without a wand, of course).

Elvendork had been awake as well, but this was no deviance from the normal schedule. The cat generally slept for a good portion of the day and was always awake throughout the night. One might think the reason for this is that _Felis catus catus_ (as well as _Felis catus kneazlis_) are nocturnal. This was not so. It merely made Elvendork's self-appointed job as sentry easier.

The cat worried about the Potter family. While the specifics were not totally known to the cat, Elvendork was very much aware that they were all in mortal danger. So the little feline never slept at the same time as the humans. If all of them were sleeping, who would warn them when the time came? With no warning, they would all almost certainly die at the Evil's hand.

Elvendork's tail twitched in annoyance as a particularly thunderous snore came from the room down the hall. Humans were so _noisy_ and _weird_ when they slept.

James Potter was sprawled on the floor directly next to the crib and not two feet away from his cat, his glasses askew. He had succumbed to exhaustion the moment directly after he was sure his son had fallen asleep. Lily, on the other hand, had at least made it to their bed. Elvendork had checked on her once in the past two hours. The woman had been on top of the covers with her butt sticking straight up in the air and her hands clamping a pillow down over her head. The position looked extremely uncomfortable. Were it not for the raucous snoring, Elvendork would felt the need to make sure that she was still alive.

A gurgle came from the off-white crib; the human boy must have woken up. Elvendork's lithe body, visible only because of the pale yellow walls, strode over to the crib and leapt up to its edge. The cat balanced there, looking down at the wriggling and gurgling baby. He was wearing blue-and-white clothes, the kind that humans called pajamas. The boy looked directly at the cat. For a moment, green eyes met green eyes.

And then Harry Potter farted. The little human completely froze, and all happy gurgling ceased immediately. His eyes were wide in fear of his own bodily processes. He scrunched up his little pale face and began to keen, his hands scrunched into fists.

Elvendork did not like it when Harry cried – or when anyone cried, for that matter. After a second of deliberation, the half-Kneazle jumped down into the crib, landing directly next to the boy. Elvendork's nose twitched in distaste from the smell, but it really wasn't that bad. It was certainly not one of the worst smells that had come from this human infant.

The cat began rubbing against the diminutive human, purring. Elvendork was very proud of the effect that purring seemed to have on the humans – it was a highly effective multi-purpose tool. Harry stopped crying at once, seeming to have forgotten about his frightening expulsion of gases due to the feeling of soft, silky black fur rubbing against his cheek.

Elvendork took his silence as a good sign and continued purring, lying down next to the baby boy. Then, the most amazing thing…

He giggled. Harry Potter giggled, and the sound was so beautiful and sweet that Elvendork instantly fell in love with this vulnerable, soft, stinky human child.

* * *

><p>"James." His glasses were at an odd angle and slightly pinching the skin at his temple. He groaned and rolled away from the voice, onto his other side. His glasses were now in a much more comfortable position.<p>

"James!"

"Lemme sleep, Lily…." She poked him once, hard in the side. With a groan, he sat up – and smacked his head hard on the underside of his son's crib.

He swore quite originally.

"_Shhh!_ You'll wake them," she whispered, pulling him to his feet and pointing to the crib. James rubbed his eyes and fixed his glasses – and smiled.

Cat and boy lay together in the crib, both deep in slumber.

At least, they seemed to both be asleep. Elvendork considered Harry Potter her personal responsibility now, and would most certainly not fall asleep on the job. Not as long as the cat had breath and strength would this boy be left unprotected.


	3. Birthday

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't even technically own Elvendork._

* * *

><p><strong>3. Birthday<strong>

In many cultures, birthdays are highly important. They mark the years that a person has lived and commemorate the original date of birth. Also, many people simply love celebrating, and will do so with even a hint of an excuse for doing so. It seems to be an integral part of human nature. Felines, on the other hand - whether they are cat, Kneazle, ocelot, cougar, cheetah, leopard, or Nundu - are not human.

_Noon; July 31, 1981_

Lily and the white-haired woman-who-smelled-like-paper, Bathilda, quietly chatted as they sat on the sofa. Harry and James were upstairs (Harry's present-opening had been interrupted by nature's abrupt and rather smelly call), and the two women seemed determined not to do anything until man and boy came back downstairs. This seemed rather strange to the always-independent Elvendork, who relied on no one, human or cat.

Though relatively understanding and knowledgeable of the ways and habits of humans, Elvendork was completely stumped by many of the things humans did. Their celebrations, their sleeping habits, their preference for making dirt and water inside their own houses (Elvendork shuddered at the thought - it was absolutely disgusting!), their love of talking and endlessly dithering – none of it really made any sense. They were such strange creatures… yet entirely lovable, thought Elvendork. Especially the little ones.

Stretched out in front of the sofa, behind Lily's legs, Elvendork's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Oh, finally!" exclaimed Lily as her husband came into view, her black haired son on his hip.

"Mah!" squealed the boy in delight, hands reaching, not for his mother, but toward the pile of presents and torn paper in the middle of the sitting room. James set the boy down and he rapidly crawled towards the gifts, completely ignoring his mother and guest. Elvendork lazily watched as he reached the pile and began ripping into them. He tore the paper off some brightly colored thing and then proceeded to continue ripping the paper apart, totally disinterested in the gift. The little boy was quite happy with the sound and feel of paper being shredded by his little hands. Destruction was apparently the best gift for little humans.

Lily, James, and Bathilda all laughed in delight as they watched Harry and listened to his elated babbling. Occasionally James would pull the unwrapped presents out of his son's way, saving them for a later time when he was actually interested in them.

As the adults flitted between light conversation and watching Harry, Elvendork watched him attentively, green eyes never wavering. When Harry lifted a piece of once-lovely yellow wrapping paper to his mouth, Elvendork decided that this was quite enough. The cat slid from behind Lily's legs and stalked up to the baby, making him pause. After a moment, he seemed to shrug off Elvendork's sudden appearance and opened his mouth, moving the paper toward it.

Elvendork lightly batted at the little fist in which the paper was grasped, making him drop it in surprise, and Harry stopped again, looking at his hand and then at his cat.

"Duh duh?" he asked, looking intently at the cat. "Maaah," he decided a moment later, reaching for the last gift and leaving the shreds of paper around him where they lay. It was oblong and messily wrapped in vivid red paper. He grabbed it and, stealing a glance at Elvendork, clumsily crawled a few feet toward the hallway and turned his back on both Elvendork and the adults.

Finally alone (because by baby logic, since he could no longer see them, they could not see him), Harry began unwrapping this last, pretty present. Red, though he could not name it, was his favorite color. Perhaps if this present had been in sight when he'd first started opening them, he would have torn apart this wrapping paper first. Most of the other gifts had been wrapped in pastel blue and pale yellow – "baby" colors. Eagerly he began shredding the paper, but his attention was suddenly diverted by the toy broomstick that had been wrapped in the paper.

Watching him, Elvendork's whiskers twitched. _Finally, something got his attention._ The cat jumped as James abruptly stood and walked over to his son. Harry was staring at this strange, enchanting thing, eyes wide. Neither Lily nor James had a broom in the house – there was no point, since they almost never left it – so this was an entirely new thing for the boy, and for Elvendork as well. No visitors ever came by broom.

So as Elvendork sat there, watching James help Harry on his new broom the cat was completely unaware of the impending danger. The feline stared as Harry, with his father's help, hovered two feet off the floor, his thin little body stretched out as he clung to the broom. Elvendork simply sat, motionless and curious. However, many readers will be familiar with the old proverb: "Curiosity killed the cat."

Harry shot forward much too fast, suddenly out of reach of James' gentle, restraining hands. Straight toward Elvendork.

"_Mrrrow!"_ If you, dear reader, have never seen a cat run for its life, it is quite something to see. In milliseconds Elvendork had vanished. It was as if the half-Kneazle had learned to Apparate. Cowering under the table half a second later, hackles raised and fur on end, the cat heard something in the sitting room shatter into countless pieces.

_This boy will be the death of me._

As soon as the thought came, Elvendork shivered. It had felt entirely too true.

* * *

><p><em>Many thanks go to both reviewers and silent readers. By the way, I originally intended for Elvendork's sex to remain a mystery, but I suppose the cat's out of the bag now (bad pun completely intended). Two chapters left, and hopefully I won't continue this trend of shorter and shorter chapters.<br>_


End file.
